Dodge
by AranitaGambade
Summary: All my life I've only ever been good at two things; running and cars. My biggest problem right now? It's a little hard to outrun giant transforming robot-aliens. You might say it's like trying to outrun fate. Fortunately my best friend Dodge is 20 feet tall with plasma cannons and a bad attitude. Please read and review. Eventual pairing. Pre RotF
1. Chapter 1

_All my life I've only ever been good at two things; running and cars. My biggest problem right now? It's a little hard to outrun giant transforming robot-aliens. You might say it's like trying to outrun fate._

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**Author's Note – Welcome**

**Hey! Welcome to my new story! I will let it be known here that I'm no expert on the Transformers as I've only seen the first three movies, and have not seen the first for at least four years. Bear with me though, as I think I can do alright. But that's where you guys come in, because I need your feedback! Please review, as I seriously don't like when people fav and run, especially since I'm pretty much the most self-conscious writer in history. Two or three words would do, of course the more the better, and constructive criticism is more than welcome!**

**Oh, and this story is not about a girl jumping in as some fearless Mary-Sue heroine, because as awesome as Havek is she is definitely more of a runner than a fighter. Nope, this story is going to be way more fun! (Hopefully, eek!) Also, please don't turn your nose up just because it's in first person. Thanks!**

**_Disclaimer: As awesome as it is, I don't own the Transformers franchise or anything related to it. Hence why I smother myself in fanfiction. All rights to their respective owners!_**

**Warnings: Violence, Language. ****Other Warnings to follow as required**

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Hitchhiking was never the way I intended to spend my days, that's for certain. I mean, it's more than a little sad when a proud mechanic doesn't even have their own set of wheels, let alone being out of work, flat broke and homeless. But I suppose that's my life now and I keep looking for that one opportunity, that one chance, 'cause I'm telling you now that when I see it I'm gonna leap up and grab for it with both hands.

I glance backwards as I hear yet another vehicle snarling as it charges up the open road, the rumble of its powerful engine making me smile slightly as it approaches and the flies past me, the draught of air hitting me like a sledgehammer. That guy had to be doing at least a hundred and sixty clicks, minimum. Oh the envy in my heart…

The bellowing roar of the engine fades into the distance and my smile follows suit. I keep my head down against the angry rays of the sun, my red truckers cap not quite keeping my ears, neck and chest from turning redder underneath my deep tan. I trudge onwards, ever onwards, hoping beyond hope that maybe today would be the final day, that maybe I could stop running at long last. That maybe I could start living again.

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My positive thoughts serve me no good, for there's no amazing opportunity miraculously appearing on the heat hazed horizon. I hitch a ride with a couple of truckers, each of them with a bottle of water, a packet of chips, some advice, a slew of tasteless jokes and rather vulgar language, though they do attempt to tone it down a little, being in the presence of a 'lady' and all.

Its three days later and a trucker has brought me to a stop. His name's Samuel and I climb from the cab with shaky legs, the limbs unused to being out of motion for so long, though it has been little more than a few hours.

Samuel comes around from the driver's side and passes –tosses – my pack at me with a toothy smile.

"Hope y'all don't mind me leavin' ya, luv, but this is where we're gonna haf to part ways," he scrunched his hat in his hands as though he really is sorry that he's leaving me behind. I think truckers always enjoy taking a hiker along for a little ways every now and then. It's probably lonely doing the job they do, living on the road. I could relate.

"Nah, it's no problem Sam," I smile at him genuinely, though I don't show my teeth. It's a small smile, but one filled with thanks. His own grin broadens in response, though I didn't think that was possible. "Here is where we part ways. That's just the way the wheel turns."

The stop is one of those mechanic/truck stop places about twenty minutes out of the nearest town and sitting just down from where a road enters the highway. Samuel's heading down that road and I'm… not.

Samuel wishes me the best of luck and then strides away, running a hand through his short, choppy hair before jamming his hat back on his head. He's off to buy a burger and pay for fuel, I would think. I leave him to it, saying goodbye coming naturally to me by this point. Well, maybe not naturally but I like to think that I'm well-practiced at it by this stage in my life.

I stand for a moment, taking a chance to stare at the overcast, stormy sky. It looked like I wasn't going to be walking much further for a little while at least. With a sigh I enter the small store, smiling thinly once again at Samuel as he left, patting me roughly on the shoulder in passing.

I bought a bottle of water and a cheese and bacon pie, spoiling myself a little. But it was so worth it as I paid with my scant cash and went back outside, sitting on an abandoned table under a broad, leafy tree out the back. I unwrap the pie with shaky fingers and a watery mouth, the scent coming off it simply divine. I sink my teeth into the flaky crust and juicy centre with a moan of relish. For too long I had lived off pilfered fruit and stale sandwiches.

I was just licking the last of the crumbs for my fingers when the crunch of boots on gravel brought me back to the real world. One of the workers from the garage out the back was walking back to work after having grubbed lunch from the store. My eyes follow him idly.

At least, they do until I spot something infinitely more interesting; old rejected cars strewn about the back of the mechanic's yard. There were vehicles of just about every style and age, though there wasn't an immense number of them, just variety. Old European's were stacked against cheap imports which were wedged under heavy trucks of all kinds and… ooh!

It was a Chevrolet Chevelle, an old one too, forgotten out in the back of the yard and crammed between the shell of a Mack truck and a skip bin filled to overflowing with cardboard and twisted scraps of metal. The only reason I could see the Chevelle was because of where I sat, the abandoned table offering me a partial view of the mangled hood and rusty bumper. The badges shone dully in the afternoon light.

I stood without being consciously aware of my actions and mere moments later I was pressed against the chain link fence. I imagine that I would have looked quite the sight to a bystander as I clutched at the wire and drooled over a wreck of a car with a feverish gleam in my eyes, but that's just what I did.

After an epic battle of willpower I drag my sorry arse away from the fence and hurry around to the front of the garage, a tiny bell tinkling over the door way as I slipped into the small shop at the front. No one was on the reception desk. My hand unconsciously rested on the wad of money I kept on me for just this occurrence as I waited with incredible impatience.

It was dark in the shop and the door to the garage out the back was open just a crack, allowing the sounds of a sander and the rapid-firing of a rattle gun to filter through. I can see shadows flickering through the slightly open door, flashes of sparks and some silhouettes bent over their respective projects. Little more than that filters through eyes and into my one track brain as I bounce on the balls of my feet. All I can think of is that forgotten Chevy Chevelle out the back.

"Hello?" I called, knowing that there was little to no chance that I would actually be heard over the cacophony of sounds out back. As expected the noise works continued and I huffed with impatience but I wasn't stupid enough to go wandering around in an unknown garage all by myself. I sighed and rolled onto my heels. I would have to wait until someone showed up or a break in the noise allowed me to yell again.

"Hey? Hello?" I called once more half-heartedly, only for a booming bark to cause me to jump and set my heart a-pounding like I'd been zapped. I turned hesitantly and watched as the massive Rottweiler-cross tilted its head towards me, eyeing me with a hungry look. If I wasn't so shit-scared I would have laughed at the irony of the garish bright pink collar around its thick neck.

I stiffened, my body pulling taught like a bow-string as the animal padded towards me, menace in it's every step. It was a metre away, then a few feet, then inches and then the dirty great beast fell with the force of an ancient oak and smothered my feet.

"Nice doggy," I murmured as I tried not to shake, though my body wanted nothing more than to tremble like a leaf. Well, what it really wanted to do was make a break for it and send me a-running off down the highway, but the two tonne weight on my feet kind of prevented that. "Don't like dogs, don't like dogs." I began to chant to myself absently, trying to distract myself from the bloodthirsty creature that was flopped over my boots and snoring obnoxiously.

"I thinks it's kinda obvious that you don't like dogs, little miss," came a half-laughing voice from the doorway that the animal had stalked me from. I glanced up with pleading eyes and the man snorted with a small grin playing over his good-looking features and a shake of his head.

"Daisy!" he called, slapping his hands against his thighs and whistling shrilly. "C'mon, up you get!"

We waited a moment but the beast did nothing but snore louder, as though trying to drown out the calls of its name. The man huffed an exasperated sigh and moved forward, seizing the mutt by that horrid pink collar and dragging the behemoth off of me. It whined piteously and resisted so that he had to quite literally drag it across the floor.

"Daisy?" I raised my eyebrows as he released the animal and it slumped in the nearest corner, though still not far enough away for my liking. The man shrugged, shooting a fond glance at the monstrous creature.

"She's sweeter than she looks," he replied with another shrug. There was one of those awkward pauses before the man cleared his throat. "So, uh, something you wanted lil miss?"

Surprisingly it takes me a fleeting moment to recall why I had indeed entered the garage, fear having wiped everything from my mind, but then I remembered the Chevy Chevelle out the back and I couldn't help the eager smile that quirked up the edges of my lips.

"There's a Chevy out the back, can I buy it?" I asked without hesitation. When the man just stared at me blankly I realised that it had been nothing more than a blur of words.

"A Chevy Chevelle," I repeated more slowly. "I would like to purchase it."

A puzzled from crossed the man's face and his eyes glazed over slightly as he thought. "Chevy, Chevy," he murmured to himself. "Can't think of it." He replied with a shake of his head.

"Can I show you?" I asked without hesitation, shooting another glance at the dog. I was so close to getting what I'd always been looking for and I'd be damned if I would let anything get in my way. Not even a gigantic, blood-thirsty monster called 'Daisy.'

"Sure, why not?" the man responded and led the way through the back. "This way."

I took the opportunity of having him turned away from me to study the man carefully. He had that awesome skin tone of someone who was half and half with dark hair and equally dark eyes that glittered as he spoke. He had a nice face too, I had to admit that, what with his strong brow, defined jaw, aristocratic nose and lips that seemed to be in a permanent upwards tilt. I had him pinned for a ladies man, though not the type who exploits it at every opportunity. What was that type of guy called..? Oh, a chick magnet! Yup, suited him to a T.

Anyway, despite all of this there was no way I was going to get all tizzy over some random fellow mechanic I'd never heard of before, so that was that. It didn't mean I couldn't admire the natural scenery thereabouts though.

"So why the interest in old piece of junk like we've got out back here?" the guy asked me after a few moments of walking that had been filled with nothing but more awkward silence and the tread of our heavy boots on the concrete flooring. He took me a strange route out the back, one that meant I avoided where the other mechanics were working.

"Gotta love classic cars," was my half-assed response, too busy gazing at the wrecks and rejects we were passing left right and centre now that we were in the yard and back under the sun's feeble rays.

"Fair enough," was the awkward response before the man stopped and I nearly slammed fully into his back from the abrupt halt. "Now, where did you see this car?"

I looked around at the cars all in varying states of decay like corpses left rotting on a long forgotten battlefield. The scrap yard was actually far bigger than I had initially thought looking in from the outside. I was never going to find that beauty again among the seemingly endless crap heap. It was just so low and well-hidden between that Mack truck and skip bin.

So instead of looking for the low down, concealed Chevy I searched instead for the towering Mack truck that it had been tucked in next to. The truck wasn't so hard to find, looming over many of the other abandoned vehicles, its smokestack shining brightly in the mid-afternoon light.

"This way," I told the man before all but racing towards the massive truck, my heart thundering in chest excitedly. I reached it, the man rolling his eyes at my exuberance and trailing behind but I paid him no mind. I grinned broadly, staring at the most beautiful sight that I had ever seen.

The Chevrolet Chevelle was 1970's series and, if the faded paint was anything to go by, it had once been a deep, midnight blue, near black.

The headlights were all broken, the windscreen missing, shattered in its frame. The rear bumper was mangled, like a giant foot had come down from above and crushed it. One of the doors was so severely bent that the top half was almost lying flat on the seat inside, the window somehow miraculously still intact.

"Really?" the guy asked, scepticism lacing his voice. "That heap of junk is what got you so goddamned excited?"

"It's beautiful," I responded with an –and I'm embarrassed to admit it – wistful sigh.

"It's a pile of junk."

"Well it won't be when I'm finished with it!" I snapped, glaring at the guy. "Now can I buy this goddamned wreck of a sexy car or are you just going to argue with me like a five-year old brat till the cows come home?"

Okay, so I have a temper, what of it?

"Jesus! Okay, calm down!" The guy raised his hands in a placating manner, looking at me like I was some kind of murderous psychopath. "I'm just saying you could do loads better that this mangled pile of shit."

"Don't listen to him," I soothed the car, trying to smother my annoyance at this guy who couldn't see the true worth of a beauty such as this Chevelle. He had no idea what I had lived through, what something like this meant to me. "I'll bring ya back baby; you'll be the best looking car around, and you're engine'll purr like a kitten with a litre of cream, a silk pillow and a belly rub."

"Okay," the guy stretched out the word, scratching the back of his head absently and obviously totally freaked out by my conversation with the car and the tender way I was running my hands over the filthy white racing stripes, the metal of the hood scarred and rough under my calloused fingers. "Why don't we go see the boss now so that you can buy the damned car?" he suggested and I had the distinct feeling that he just wanted to get rid of me.

"Fine," I muttered, reluctantly tearing myself away from the vehicle, my eyes already seeing the masterpiece it would become. My heart broke a little at what I imagined to be a sad look on the car's 'face' as I walked away.

"It is typical though." I said with a huff after a moment as we wound our way back through the car graveyard. The guy raised his eyebrow in speculation.

"What's typical?" I snorted down a half-hearted laugh and tossed my head a little, my short, choppy hair tickling my scalp a little as the air filtered through it. My fringe fell back into my eyes.

"That your boss has already sent me to his subordinates without even introducing himself." I was silent for a brief moment and when the guy made no response I smiled grimly to myself. "I bet he saw that I was a woman and just palmed me off to you, hey ladies' man?"

I bit back a laugh as his ears turned slightly pink under his deep skin tone but made no other response.

"Fine, be that way," I muttered whilst fighting down a smile as I followed his silent form back into the garage, blinking rapidly as my eyes struggled to adjust to the gloominess and sporadic showers of sparks from one corner of the workspace.

"Al?" he called into the garage as we stood at its edge. The sparks stopped. "Hey Al!?"

"What?" snapped back a grating voice from the corner that the sparks had been emanating from. The rest of the garage was still and I wondered where the other workers were. Instinctively I squared my shoulders and clenched my jaw as the burly figure of 'Al' worked its way out of the shadows.

The big guy was perhaps six one, muscled but with a prominent beer gut. He wore a stained tank that stretched across his large form in unflattering ways. His face was stained with grease, dirt and exhaustion, his eyes tired but cautious. A thick beard smothered his lower jaw, the dark hair streaked with grey like that which ringed his skull.

"Hi," he bit out as he spotted me, his thick, gnarled hand outstretched. I clasped it in my own and returned the handshake firmly. "Name's Al."

"Only everyone calls him Big Al," chimed in the other guy.

"Least he was kind enough to introduce himself, unlike some I could mention." I fixed the younger man with a pointed glare.

"Hey now! You never introduced yourself neither, lil lady," I caught an undercurrent of Southern drawl in his tone but I ignored him completely, keeping my attention on Big Al.

"I'm Maxine Havek, though most just call me Havek, ya know, like havoc?"

"Havek, I like it. Seems to suit ya more than Maxine at any rate," was Big Al's response as he barked a laugh and I grinned back at him, absently running my finger over the studs and hoops in one of my ears.

"That's what I've been told," I agreed and we laughed again.

"Well, lil lady, I suppose it's time to introduce myself," The younger man wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder for a moment, either not noticing or completely ignoring the way I stiffened as I resisted the urge to pull away and tear his eyes out with my fingernails. But he released me just as quickly as he had latched on and stepped forward before turning on his heel and sweeping a gallant, mocking bow. "My name, fair lady, is Jones, and I will be so bold as to confess that I think I'm falling in love with your crazy ways."

"I-you what?" I stared at him as though he had just grown two heads before glowering as he broke down into gales of laughter, struggling to breather. Big Al just looked between us confusedly.

"What what?" Jones chirped, feigning confusion. "You're the one who accused me of being a ladies man." I should have known there was a reason he was so quiet after my comment.

"Pray forget I mentioned it," I replied dryly, not at all impressed. "Clearly you're more likely to scare away any members of the female sort with you guffawing like a slapped mule."

"Aye, even his mother kicked him out!" Big Al roared with laughter as Jones sulked.

"Low blow, man," he muttered. "low blow."

"Anyway," Al waved a hand as if to clear the air of our current er… conversation. "What can I do for you Miss Havek?"

"1970 Chevrolet Chevelle out the back," I stated simply, straight down to business. My palm began to itch in eagerness of the deal. "I want to buy it."

"It's a mangled old hunk of junk," Jones slipped in helpfully and I resisted the urge to destroy that perfectly straight nose of his.

"Shut it Jones," Al barked and Jones went back to sulking like pup that had gotten its favourite chew toy taken away. He stared at Al with reproachful eyes, indignant that his only source of amusement was being stolen from him. I smirked.

Al looked thoughtful for a good long moment as though he was trying to recall exactly what the car looked like.

"Dark blue, fairly beat up?" he asked.

"That's the one," I replied with a winning smile.

"Eight hundred." Was his response and I froze, the smile dying on my face and sliding off like swamp mud.

"What?" my voice was whisper quiet, but I knew that if I raised it any louder I'd be screaming at the top of my lungs. "That's ridiculous! Who could, or would, pay that for a wreck, especially one so badly damaged as that!?"

Al just shrugged. "Sorry, but that's the best I can do."

"What?" I repeated, feeling like I was repeatedly being punched in the guts.

"Seriously Al, that's a little over the top, isn't it?" Jones said, a deep crease in his brow. It looked strange on his normally cheerful face. I shot him what I hoped was a warm, thankful look, not quite able to believe that he was supporting me in this.

"I can't do anything, I'm sorry."

"Why!?" I all but wailed.

"Look, I don't actually own that wreck. It belongs to one of my employees who have just walked off the job and if you want it that's what you're gonna have to pay for it." Big Al honestly did look bad about what he was telling me, but my brain didn't really want to process that.

"Wait! Micky left!?" Jones yelled before tearing off through the garage in what I thought may well be a vain attempt to catch up to this 'Micky.'

"I can't afford that," I murmured, half to myself and half to Al. "Not if I want to truck it out of here and find a place to stay while I fix it up."

As you can see, I've never been very good at planning what to do with my life. In a way I suppose I repeatedly dig my own hole and then someone else comes along and helpfully kicks some dirt in for me.

"You could work for it," Al suggested. I wanted to roll my eyes; what did he think I was going to do? Beg on the streets? But then I saw the half-smile on his face and it wasn't a sleazy half-smile, but more the type of smile that suggested he'd come up with a plan to benefit the both of us. I just didn't know what said plan was yet.

"Huh?" I asked with undeniable verbal talent.

"You could work for it here," he repeated, and the adding of a single word made everything fallen in place. It was like the planets had just aligned for me or something. Maybe I should have read my horoscope. "Keep the car here, work on it in your spare time. You could live in the loft up top if you wanted."

"Why would you offer all of this to a perfect stranger?" I asked in utter bewilderment and – I won't deny it – a small degree of awe.

"I've seen people like you before Miss Havek," he replied with a soft look in his eyes. "Hell, I was one of 'em once. Good, honest people who've just had to get used to the world spitting on them."

"But why?" I pressed.

"All it takes is one good turn by someone, and it can change your life forever." Was his nonchalant response coupled with a shrug, but I could hear the distinct echo of experience in his voice.

I was silent for a moment. I had sworn to myself that I would leap for the first opportunity that presented itself and wrap it in a strangle hold. This was my chance.

"Yeah," I agreed, my head giddy with overwhelming gratitude. "Yeah, okay."

Big Al grinned broadly before clasping my small hand in both of his gigantic ones.

"It'll be great, Havek." He assured me.

"Hey Al?" I asked as he led the way to what I assumed was his office nestled away in a small, shadowy corner. He looked at me quizzically. "How'd you know I was a mechanic?"

"Only a mechanic's got hands like that," he nodded at my scarred and grease-stained hands and grinned again. "Now come on, there's paperwork to sign. If I can find it."

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**Author's Note**

**Good Lord, that was one hell of a chapter to write haha. I'm writing this in a journal first, and I thought it would only be about two and a half thousand words when I typed it up, but I think I swamped that number.**

**Anyway, welcome to my story! Please please please review, because I have no idea if people like this story or not, and your input is going to have immense effects on what happens in this story. And if I screw anything up I seriously need to know so that I can fix it!**

**Please excuse my terrible editing skills! Feel free to nit-pick!**

**Oh! Last thing! To see what the Chevy Chevelle looks like put this**

**cloud9classics wp-content/uploads/2012/09/70CCSS1345891-400x300 . Jpeg**

**into your browser and remove the spaces.**


	2. Chapter 2

It took almost a week before we were able to drag my beloved Chevrolet Chevelle out of the yard and into a quiet, abandoned corner of the garage. Al, Jones, myself and two brawny truckers helped to push it out of its dug-too-soon grave. I paid both with a service and wash of their trucks. They left laughing about my attempted 'resurrection.'

It was a good thing, I decided, that the garage was so large, indeed created for an outfit of about eight men to work as well as a boy for the front desk, but that was back in the days when the highway was a major thoroughfare. It was lucky because I could keep the Chevy shoved in a lonely corner until I had a spare two seconds to do some welding, wiring or enlist Jones' help – with a bribe of a six-pack of course – to beat out and fit panels.

It took me two months to strip the car, totally removing pretty much everything and only keeping what I knew I would never be able to afford to fully replace. That stuff, like the engine, would be subjected to my experiments as I tried to make it far superior to anything that the stock vehicle could ever have possessed. I'd always been good at taking something and making it better.

The only thing that gave me pause in those early months was a box type thing that was fused in place in the undercarriage, protected by a thick sheet of metal that ran from the front of the vehicle. I'd seen it's like on the vehicles used in mine sites before, but never on a roadster. It was designed to protect the precious parts of the undercarriage from rocks and thick mud that would cause everything to seize. What it was doing on such a low-down vehicle as the Chevelle, I couldn't say.

The box itself was another puzzle, another mystery that I was going to be unable to solve any time soon. It was slightly larger than two of my heads put together and seemed to have nothing any hinges, locks, seems or joins in it anywhere which confused the hell out of me. Why would anyone make a perfectly smooth box and fuse it to the underside of the car? I tried everything to remove it, chiselling, cutting, pulling and sawing but the metal around it was every bit as sturdy as the box itself, which resisted all of my attempts to cut into it despite trying all of the most powerful tools I could. Resigned, I just left it there hoping it wasn't some drug dealer's stash or something.

I'd gotten Al to look at it, to see if he could come up with any ideas as to why the previous owners had it fused on there but he was at as much a loss as I was. Jones had just laughed at my paranoia that it was something terrible. So, against my better judgement I left it there, clinging to the underside of my car like some kind of tumour.

Jones and Al, I had quickly come to realise, had a steadfast, humorous, father-son relationship thing going on that left me bewildered and constantly lagging behind. I mean, how could two people who quite clearly had no relation to one another at all become so close knit? Al watched over Jones like a hawk at times, yet managed to be perfectly discrete about it. He cared a great deal for the younger man, that much was apparent, and Jones joyfully basked in the indirect praise and attention.

It was just as strange for me to admit though, that I was beginning to feel something like affection for them also which frightened me to be quite frank. After all, it had only been a very short time thus far, to short, I thought, to form the kind of familial bond we all seemed to share.

But there was just something about the way Al hovered when he had an inclination that I was going to do something dramatically stupid and potentially dangerous. There was something about the way he looked at Jones and I whenever he tried to teach us something knew and finally –finally!- we managed to get it right, though not without egos that were as bruised as our hands.

There was something too about the way Big Al had infinite patience when teaching, despite his generally surly disposition. I loved the way that the older man would treat me no different to Jones, and how despite our formidable work load he always ensured that we got fair hours to make up for the scummy wages he was able to provide – after I finished paying off my car, of course – even if we wanted to work overtime to make up for said scummy wages.

It didn't bother me though; I had a car – albeit one far from driving standard even if the engine did reluctantly cough to life- a place to rest my head – okay, so a dusty old loft that smells like diesel and old dog isn't the best place to crash at the end of the day, but it one-upped a park bench – cash in my pocket – so what if it wasn't a lot of dough? But it was enough to buy food, car parts, dunny rolls and the occasional bribe of cheap beer – and people who gave a damn about my well-being – even if one of them was a jerk-wad who persistently drove me to the edge of sanity and beyond.

I had possessed far less in my twenty-odd years of life, and I would perhaps even go so far as to confess that it could very well have been the best I'd ever had it. Hardly a day went by when I wasn't breaking down into fits of laughter over the antics and misadventures of Jones, sometimes even with a sideshow of Big Al dosed in. The thing that made a difference in life, I realised, was the people who had their grubby claws in it, no matter their intentions there.

"Havek!" was the only warning I received before one of the Chevelles brand-spanking new tires came bouncing towards me. I leapt forward and grabbed the wheel before it could smash down shiny new rim first into the hard, unforgiving concrete.

"Jones you arse!" I yelled, wishing I had something other than a bunch of rather necessary wheel nuts to pitch at his thick skull. "These cost me an arm and a leg each, you toss-pot! Don't you dare scratch a single one!"

"So, uh- where'd you get the other arms and legs from, lil lady?" he asked with a cheeky smile, wheeling the fourth and final tire over to me with excessive amounts of care. Not that I minded of course; excessive was far better than insufficient. I simply gritted my teeth and scowled at the idiot.

"Just put them on," I commanded, waving the rattle gun threateningly under his nose.

"Sheesh! I'm going alright?" he exclaimed, lifting the new tire in place. "Crazy bitch." I heard him mutter after a moment. I made sure to step on his fingers as he attempted to push himself off the floor. The ensuing slew of curses would have made both truckers and sailors extremely proud.

I wielded the rattle gun like I'd been born to it, having a wheel attached and double checked but the tire iron just in time to move around to the next one that Jones had in place. In under two minutes my car had four brand spanking wheels and could officially be labelled completed, even if there were a few minor things that had to be dealt with, like touching up the interior and slapping on a paintjob. But those were cosmetic and meant little in the end, so I could at last say that after two years of hard, never ending labour I was at last done. Perhaps this would mark yet another turning point in my life, another furtive step forward.

"Al! Al! It's done!" I cried out, clapping my hands together like an exuberant toddler.

"I can see that," was Big Al's deep throated reply from where he stood, arms crossed and a smirk playing around his mouth. He looked at the way I was standing there, just grinning happily before making a brusque shooing motion with his hands. "What are you waiting for? Go burn some rubber!"

I laughed heartily and grabbed the keys from where they hang on a desolate hook, out of sight but never far out of mind, before slipping my fingers under the door handle, grinning feverishly at the clunk it produced when pulled.

I thought I might die as I slid into the low seat, the smell of leather, chrome and diesel assailing my nostrils like the sweetest of perfumes. I closed my eyes and wrapped my hands around the steering wheel with relish, running my palms over the slickness of it, fingers trailing over the bumpy grips on the back. It seemed to fit my hands perfectly.

"Shall we drive?" I opened my eyes to find Jones sprawled in the passenger seat beside me, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably at it. The eager look in his eyes rivalled mine in ferocity.

"You tell me, bud," I asked the car, waiting a moment before reverently turning the key in the ignition.

The engine purred to life as I said it would way back when I first discovered the car, albeit it sounded more less like the purr of a kitten and more like the rumbling grumble of a dinosaur. It was utterly the most perfect sound I had ever heard.

"Just like you said it would," Jones murmured from the passenger seat and I grinned wolfishly at him, the excitement of it all making me giddy.

I adjusted the side mirrors in nervous anticipation, the car humming as it idled, as though it too was eagerly anticipating being back on the wide open road. I took a moment with the rear view mirror, staring back into my own eyes as though I would see some marked change.

I didn't. My brown hair still hung low over my forehead and down the sides of my faces, choppy and sheared into rough tufts at the back. I still had the same six earrings that I'd had since I was thirteen, three studs and two hoops in one ear and a small, lone hoop in the other, a small purple stud resting in my nose.

It was the same sharp face staring back at me with its too long nose and dosing of freckles over my tanned skin, my overly large brown eyes shining so brightly that I looked slightly ill. I could faintly see the silvery scar that traced through my eyebrow, but the fringe covered most of it and you wouldn't know it was there unless I pushed the hair back, which I never do.

"You right there, good lookin'?" Jones asked with a mocking tone in his voice. I glanced at the cheeky bastard before smirking and smoothly guiding the stick into first gear, Al rolling his eyes at our melodramatics. I saw Jones' hand clench on the pant leg of his baggy jeans. After my constant mooning over the car and all of the hard work, blood, sweat and tears we'd put into getting the old wreck going again, he had come to love the Chevelle almost as much as I did.

We sat outside for a moment as I double-checked everything I possibly could, the dark tint protecting us from the scorching rays of the afternoon sunlight.

"You're not going to have some kind of fit over there, are you?" Jones asked me, half-joking and half-concerned for his own well-being. In a cheeky response I revved the powerful engine before we finally got going.

The Chevelle rolled slickly down to the highway and I looked both ways before gunning the engine and gliding slickly around the corner, grey smoke throwing up behind us as the tires fought for traction.

"So much for baby steps," I heard Jones mutter over the roar of the engine and I grinned, loving the feel of the wheel beneath my hand, the smoothness of the gearstick, the tingling rumble shuddering through the whole car and the leather seat beneath my arse. I loved it all.

I stretched out the engine, pushing the car faster and shifting through the gears till it was at its max.

"What're you doing?" Jones gasped in an epic fail of his masculinity. He reached up and grabbed a hold of the handle over the door as if that would help him if we had a head-on collision with an oncoming truck.

"Revelling in freedom," I responded, baring my teeth in what must have been quite the savage grin. The car felt steady in my hands and the road was perfectly straight, wide open and with not a car in sight. It was like the pathway to a rev-head's heaven.

"How's your heart rate?" I asked Jones with a wicked grin. He turned to look at me with a suspicious and panicked glint in his eye dark eyes.

"Why? What are you going to – ARGH!"

I forced in the brake and reefed the car around so that it skidded across the empty lanes onto the furthest side of the road, doing a full one hundred and eighty degree turn in there somewhere so that we were facing back towards the garage.

"Crazy bitch!" Jones managed to gasp out as he struggled to maintain any dignity that he may have once had.

"Don't be such a little girl," I retorted with a roll of my eyes as we powered along. Jones stuck his tongue out at me before nearly biting it off as I forced the accelerator down again.

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

"How'd it go?" Al asked as we pulled back in to the garage. Jones leapt out the door before we'd rolled fully to a stop, staggering to his feet with a slightly unhealthy green tinge to his skin. I didn't feel a shred of sympathy; what kind of mechanic doesn't like to push fast, powerful cars to their limits?

"Awesome!" I responded with a world-eating grin on my face. Al shook his head in wonder.

"Must've been. I don't think I've ever seen you smile like that."

"She's a maniac," Jones bit out as he slunk back into the workshop.

"Maybe," I agreed with his retreating back, another grin flashing across my face. "Anyway, Al, can I have the weekend off? I wanna get the Chevy painted by that guy you told me about?"

"Well…"

"Awesome! Thanks!"

Al just blinked at the words that had flowed out of my mouth in a torrent but I was already running for the stairs of the loft well before he had any chance to respond. It was just so damn exciting!

I grabbed my wallet, stuffed it with cash, some clothes, a toothbrush, hairbrush and jammed my red truckers hat into the top of the bag. To say that I packed lightly was a fairly accurate statement.

"See ya!" I yelled to Jones as I bounded down the stairs of the loft and past him with a flushed face, catching a glimpse of his exasperated headshake. I threw the bag onto the passenger seat and looked up at Al from the open window of the Chevelle.

"Hey Al…"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," I smiled at him, trying to convey all of my gratefulness into that single gesture.

"For what?" he responded, though he seemed to already know the answer.

"Everything. I mean it," Al blinked rapidly several times before a broad smile spread under his bushy beard.

"You just make sure you come back when it's all done. I wanna see that car of yours in all its glory."

"There's no place I'd rather be," I responded before once again turning the key in the ignition, setting the Chevy in gear and pulling away.

I left the window down as I drove, the air rushing in as I belted out Lullaby by Nickleback utterly shamelessly from my toneless set of pipes. I laughed freely, feeling lighter than I had in years, my fringe catching in the heavy rush of air and flying back off my face. It felt to me in that moment that maybe, just maybe, I had seen the worst of it, that the storm had finally lifted.

A surge of pure recklessness pulsed through me with those thoughts, not that my reckless streak is ever too far from the surface. I pushed the accelerator to the limit and worked my way to top gear. If I got caught then and there I would have lost my license for the rest of my life and been institutionalised. Maybe I should have been because my heart was telling me that the Chevelle had a little more to give whilst my head was pretty certain that the classic was at its peak.

"C'mon baby," I muttered, clenching my hands around the steering wheel and applying a little more force on the accelerator. It resisted for a moment and I thought that maybe that was it, but then the resistance fell away and the Chevelle bit out a deep growl before surging like it was going through some rapid gear changes, but the gear box was only a six speed and already at the top end.

The needle on the speedometer continued to rise and then it maxed out, but my innards told me that the speed was still climbing. By now we were going impossible fast and the air rushing past me from the open window was so forceful that I struggled to take a breath.

"Shit!" I exclaimed and went to move my foot off of the accelerator but a gruff, metallic and distinctly masculine voice cut me off.

"You chicken?" It asked, and my gut clenched. My hands were suddenly extremely sweaty on the wheel and I braked sharply, ending up facing across the two empty lanes.

"What!?" I exclaimed – shrieked – without meaning to, fighting down an abrupt and fierce panic attack, the like of which I hadn't experience since I was about eleven and my dad was going to- no.

"What?" I repeated again, slightly more in control of myself, though if that voice spoke again I was sure to utterly lose the plot.

"Who said that?" I demanded harshly, attempting to mask my fear behind false bravado though I knew it was a pointless attempt. I scoured my gaze over every inch of the Chevy's interior, but of course there was no one there. I shuddered, staring at the radio in horror and confusion as realisation came to my mind. My Nickleback CD was still pumping but that voice had easily cut in over the lead vocalist. "Who said that?" I demanded again, trying to insert a little more authority into my voice. But of course I received no answer once again.

I stared at the radio dubiously for a little longer before shaking my head and putting the car into gear. It must've been a spasm of the radio, or my imagination or something. There was simply no other explanation.

I drove more sedately now, the occasional tingle still running up my spine as I kept getting the feeling that I was being watched. I switched the CD from Nickleback to some gentle country. It was perhaps not the best driving music, but it was mostly instrumental.

Oh if only I'd gotten out of that 1970 Chevy Chevelle then and there and walked away…

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

**Hello lovely people!**

**Thanks so much for your support on my first chapter! A very special thankyou to Fox Of The Last Temple, wordgeek1000 and Fandom Jumping Expert for your kind reviews! **

**Please review! It seriously makes my day and lets me improve the story!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Dodge Chapter Three**

**Author's Note**

**Guest: Your review was very inspiring! I am so glad that you see potential in my story though you have experienced no more than two chapters. Thank you, I am truly flattered.**

**Caroline (Guest): Thankyou**

**Fox (Guest): Thank you, it makes me happy to know you were awaiting the next chapter eagerly. I hope I do not disappoint with the newest chapter! (Are you by chance Fox of the Last Temple?)**

**Please enjoy!**

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

Kennedy was enough I surmised as I cruised through its bustling streets. There was plenty of light industry and a sprawling residential area. I supposed that if someone wanted to live a nice, quiet_ normal _life it was the ideal place to be. It was just over an hour and a half drive from the garage and it had mostly been a quiet drive, bordering on boring. After the whole metallic, masculine voice from nowhere episode that is.

So far I had done my best to push all memory of that incident from my mind, though it seemed determined to lurk around and maybe I was being stupid to try and forget about it. So far the car – I had decided that yes, it was definitely some part of the car that had spoken, most probably the radio – hadn't made any attempt to do so again or run me off the road at any point so I was becoming perfectly content with the idea that maybe, just maybe, whatever it was didn't actually want to kill me. And since that point was decided upon I was perfectly okay with pretending that it had never actually happened. Even if I was still doubting my sanity. Or rather what was left of it.

I pulled into a small, cheap motel that wasn't anything flash to look at but nor was it liable to break the bank for a two night stay. I stepped out of the Chevelle, taking my bag and all of my possessions with me. I hovered for a moment on the tarmac, hesitating about whether or not I actually wanted to lock the car, as stupid as that may sound.

Despite having put so much time, effort, money, blood and even a few cheeky fucking tears into the bloody thing I wasn't actually too fussed at that moment if someone pinched it. In the end I locked it anyway, rationalising that if someone wanted to steal it they weren't exactly going to let a simple thing like a locked door stopped them.

"Night," I said after a long moment spent shuffling my feet in indecision. The car, of course, didn't feel at all pressured to make any kind of a response and I felt like a total tool for thinking that it might. So I left the cause of my woes there without another backwards glance, shrugging my shoulders as if that made all the difference in the world.

"I'm going mental," I murmured to myself as I pushed open the door to the reception.

"The first sign of insanity _is _talking to yourself, dear," A kindly voice chimed in. I glanced up and grinned somewhat sheepishly at the receptionist who lounged behind that counter, fake nails brushing over a pile of untouched paper work as she tore her attention from the tiny cube of a telly she was watching.

"Probably," I tilted my head and allowed a crooked grin to slip onto my face. "But no one else seems to wanna talk back. Not even my car's chatting to me at the moment."

The woman shook her head at me with a half-smile, giving me that look that said 'You're crazy but amusing so I'll tolerate it.'

"A room dear?" was her only verbal response.

"Yes please," I said, putting on my best manners and stepping up to the counter. My best manners lasted all of about two seconds as I caught a whiff of that acrid spray tan chemical scent. Okay, so let's be honest, I'm surprised I didn't smell it from across the room. Her skin was so orange that she looked like an Oompa Loompa's cousin with bleached blonde hair. But then, who was I to judge? People probably look at me and think I've rolled out from under the nearest park bench what with my home style haircut, as well as my patched, torn and otherwise greasy clothes. I forced a sweet smile. "Just one please, and only for two nights."

"Excellent," the woman said whilst punching some numbers into the computer which was probably as old as I was, if not more so. She slid my cash out of sight before handing me a single key hanging on a worn and warped plastic tag. "All done! Now, you're in room seven, down that hall, up the stairs and it's the centre door on the right. Showers are complimentary. Holler if you need anything."

And with that I was dismissed, her meaning clear; 'please don't bother me unless you're dead and/or dying.'

"Will do," I said, just to give her the irricks. "Thanks."

I followed her instructions to the T and shoved the key into the gummy lock before stepping inside. The room itself was better than I had expected judging by the exterior and receptionist and, well everything else. It was perfectly clean and sparsely furnished, though homey enough with its slightly rustic décor. There were two kitchen benches with cupboards underneath, a microwave, toaster, kettle (these three items left little space on the benches) a freestanding sink, bar fridge, tiny television set and a comfy looking double bed which was surprisingly soft.

I stuffed my bag down next to the bed and hummed to myself, checking out my surrounding's. There was less than hour of daylight left judging by the pathetic view I had out the window. Still, one can't have everything.

I ordered a pizza and decided that I would have more than enough time to get down to the communal showers and back before it arrived, though knowing my luck the pizza joint would be about a hundred metres down the road. If that was the case I would be pissed and probably miss out on my pizza but grabbed the complimentary towel and soap, some knickers, a pair of worn tracksuit pants and my favourite baggy shirt with a faded AC/DC logo emblazoned across that chest.

The showers were nice, though they seemed to be stuck on the an extremely high temperature. I didn't complain, taking my time as I always did to get clean. It wasn't as if it was my water and gas bill now, was it? Why not take advantage.

I was on my way back to my room, vigorously towelling my soaked hair when I happened to glance down at the car park. I dropped my boots.

I had left the Chevelle on the far side of the parking lot, as far away from where I would be sleeping as I could possibly get it without parking several hundred metres down the road, and down the road was all out of parking places. Believe me, I'd looked.

Now though… the Chevelle had _definitely _moved. And quite a distance too.

Because now it was parked just below the veranda of the rooms on the second floor, and just in front of my own room.

"Bugger it all," I grumbled, forcing my chest to swell with agitation rather than anxiety. I snatched my boots up, dumped them in front of my door and stomped down the stairs wearing nothing but my faded, holey tracky-dacks, a baggy tee that did little for my modesty and a pale pink towel wrapped around my hair on top of my head. Bugger it all indeed.

My bare feet slapped noisily on the stone stairs as I ran down them, not even considering for a spare second that bare, wet feet and concrete, particularly stairs, don't mix, most _especially _when gravity is entered into the equation. Fortunately I was a reasonably fit, athletic kind of person with balance when it counts.

I darted across the car park and threw open the driver's side door, realising too late that I had indeed locked it earlier and proceeded to plonk myself in the driver's side seat whilst breathing from the agitation I was forcing myself to feel in order to mask potential fear.

"What the actual hell?" I demanded, my nostrils flaring like a deranged bull as I thumped the seat with a curled fist. "You can't go around driving yourself! What if someone had seen?"

There was, as ever, no response and I howled in frustration, banging my hands of the leather and chrome steering wheel before following suit with my head. The towel slipped loose and slithered down to curl up on the floor. I ignored the dull ache that bloomed in my skull.

Eventually, when there was still no response in any way, shape or form from the Chevelle I pried my head off the steering wheel and sat quietly. Then I abruptly threw back my head and let out the loudest, most animalistic and pissed of sound I could manage, coming off somewhere between a mountain gorilla and a choked parrot.

I bared my teeth at the gunmetal grey interior roof before exhaling massively, trying to get rid of every last bit of air in my lungs so that I might take in a little sense with my next breath.

I slumped backwards, my head squelching unpleasantly as my wet hair came into contact with the head rest of the leather seat. I squeaked and shot up like a piston, going ramrod straight in the seat as the car shuddered underneath me. Almost like it had… shivered.

I was impossibly still for several long moments in which I took deep steadying breaths, the car having returned to being completely stationary underneath me. Then I let out a breathless almost disbelieving laugh.

"Fool me once, shame on you," I said a little numbly, not totally sure what I was saying. "Fool me twice… never!" I laughed again, though it sounded a little maniacal even to my own ears. I was just glad to know, or at least be reasonably certain that I wasn't utterly out of my mind.

"Why are you hiding?" I asked, forcing my tone to be soft and cajoling as I ran a gentle hand along the dash.

The radio flickered to life, glowing aquamarine in the gathering darkness. I bit my bottom lip, concealing both my excitement and anxiety. Something about a sentient car just made me all tingly.

"You are afraid," The same masculine, metallic voice echoed through the speakers. I was already shaking my head without being totally aware of what I was doing.

"No, not afraid." And I wasn't. I realised then that I had actually been more afraid of the idea of being crazy than of the car itself. Insanity snuck up on you with no warning and cut you down. It wasn't something you could fight. The car, on the other hand, was real and tangible. That I could handle.

"Your heart rate is unnaturally high," the car said in an almost accusatory manner.

"Excited, a little nervous maybe," I defended myself. "But not afraid."

"Why not?" The Chevelle asked in a manner that suggested that most normal, reasonable people would be, of which I was neither.

I shrugged. "You could have run us off the road at any point today and smashed me to bits. You could have swung open a door open at any point when I've been working and shoved me into a saw or something. But you didn't. You don't wanna hurt me."

"Maybe I needed you to repair me," the car retorted smartly.

"You still could have killed me on the way here."

"Perhaps I am waiting for that new paint job." Despite myself I had to stifle a smile, though I could feel my dimples make themselves known as I fought it down. Smart assed car.

"Well you better behave yourself or I'll have you painted canary yellow."

"Oh the horror," the car mocked in a dry tone. I was a little creeped out by the incredibly human-like way that it spoke.

"Perhaps hot pink would be better," I smirked.

"Colour does not define the bot," The Chevelle retorted in a rather snotty tone.

"A bot?" I asked, fascinated beyond reason. "Is that what you are?"

"You could call me that. Your kind would call me a robot, though I am an independent intelligence. You might also refer to my people as Transformers." Was that a little wistfulness I picked up in his tone? Curiosity bit again before I could be sure and I found myself asking;

"Your people?"

"Yes, we hail from the planet Cybertron."

"Planet? You're aliens?" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling a lot more uncomfortable.

"That's more startling for you than a sentient robot that looks like a perfectly ordinary car?" I made no response as I blushed lightly because the car, alien, _whatever _was right. "Yes, we are aliens. Though to us it is _you _who are the aliens."

That made sense, I supposed. I had the distinct feeling that this particular alien hadn't had a good old chat for quite some time with the way he nattered on a little. I mean, how could he have? He was a rusted husk in Big Al's car graveyard.

"Were you dead? I asked abruptly.

"What?" the car sounded utterly befuddled. I would have been too had I been on the receiving end of that abrupt conversation change.

"Before I found you out the back of the garage," I expanded my question. "Were you dead?"

"No," the Chevelle permitted itself a brief chuckle. "Dead is dead, there's no coming back from that. No, I was merely in stasis."

I wrinkled my word at the unfamiliar word but managed to connect it with several sci fi movies. "Stasis? Like and induced sleep?"

"Indeed. Cybertronian's do not 'fall asleep' as humans do. We must consciously shut down to recharge."

"Understandable," I nodded. He was a robot after all. An alien robot, but a machine made of metal nonetheless.

"So…" I tried to think of another question now that my car had finally decided to talk back provide some answers. In fact, he was being rather chatty.

"So, what do you transform into?" I asked, recalling the part of our conversation where had mentioned being called a transformer. There was a long hesitation before he answered, but even then it wasn't to my taste.

"Perhaps one day I will show you," was all he said and I had to bite my tongue not to grill him over such a stupid and ambiguous answer.

"Your sustenance is here," the Chevelle remarked casually. I started. The pizza delivery guy had indeed just pulled into the car park but that wasn't what freaked me out.

"How did you know I ordered a damn pizza!?" I asked before thinking better of it. "You know what, don't worry. You're a sentient, alien, supposedly transforming robot. I get it."

I opened the door almost reluctantly but not without a tiny amount of relief. The cool evening air assailed me through my thin clothes. At some point during our conversation the Chevelle had discretely switched on the heaters.

I was already standing before I recalled the one question that I really _needed _to ask that very night. I leant back inside the toasty interior of the car.

"Uh, hey," I began awkwardly, always a fantastic start. I wasn't sure whether he was still willing to converse with me or not. The radio was still glowing so I took that as a good sign. "Do you, you know, have a name?"

"Of course," the car scoffed immediately in response, but no name was forthcoming. I bobbed my head uncomfortably.

"So, uh, do you mind telling me?"

There was a long pause in which I thought I was being ignored all over again before he finally replied.

"Dodge. My name is Dodge."

"Well, its nice to meetcha Dodge. I'm Maxine Havek, only everyone calls me-"

"Havek. I know." There was something like a smirk in his voice. Of course he would know my name, he had technically lived in the same place as me for as long as I'd been at the garage.

"Just trying to be polite," I muttered and the Chevelle's – Dodge's – chassis trembled slightly as he laughed silently at my expense. Or at least I think he was laughing, there was really no telling since he wasn't making a sound. I hesitated a little longer before standing once again. Then a moment later I was thrusting my head back into the cab.

"D'you want the, um, the keys?" I asked sheepishly, holding said keys up by the leather tassel attached to the key ring.

"Keep them," Dodge replied with what may have passed for a smile in his voice if I was talking to a human. I had the feeling he was trying very hard not to laugh at me and I appreciated that. My face was already burning.

"Yeah, right, you don't need them. Of course you don't," I wanted to smack myself in the face if only to stop my own incessant chatter. I wasn't sure how to say goodnight and walk away from my alien robot of a car.

"Good night Havek," Dodge said softly before closing the door in my face.

"Um, night?" I replied before taking two shaky steps forward.

"Your sustenance is escaping," Dodge's voice informed me, emanating from the shiny grill on the front of the Chevelle.

"Shit!" I yelled before running flat lick to intercept the pizza guy before he could make it back to his car.

I never saw the shadowy figure who had observed the entire interaction between me and my machine.

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

**Author's Note**

**Wow! Thank you so much for the awesome response guys! I'm so sorry for not getting this up sooner but I was being a serious lazy arse and am also writing a thousand and one other things at the same time so please bear with me!**

**I thought I would just like let it be known, though it will come up eventually in the story, that Havek, like me, is Australian, so that is why much may seem strange. Also, if I make you laugh at any point, you owe me a review :D+**

**Your responses were amazing and seriously inspiring though! Thank you so much to HeartsGuardianSol, Fox (Guest) sunshinegirl004, Caroline (Guest), Jazzman-Music-Central-Party and finally to Guest.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dodge Chapter Four**

**Greetings! I would just like to say thank you all so much for the support! It means the absolute world to me as I write for you guys!**

**A special thanks to Jazzy the Jazz, Guest, SunstreakersSquishy2,0 and graziella,m,araujoo.**

**Dear Guest: Your review made me laugh. A lot. I don't deny that you're probably freaking awesome! That my story trumps you in that regard (at least in your own opinion) makes my heart soar. Thanks for the kind words haha! On a more serious note though (pfft, serious, what's **_**that?**_**) I'm not actually sure how it is I've created Dodge. He's not as I intended anyway. He's rather just writing himself as we go along and laughing in my face each time I try to change something about him. I don't know whether to love him or want to kill him!**

**Anyway, before we go any further I want to say that I appreciate any and all comments you have to make! You guys make this story, not me, I'm just the conduit. You guys are the soul. I'm gonna get all sappy here and say that I don't really have anyone in my life who supports my writing, no one who will read through my work, no one who will even take it seriously, so for you guys to deliver any kind of feedback… it makes my heart do all of these funny flippy things in my chest. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart.**

**I would also be much obliged if you would kindly glance over my terrible typing skills. I am the first to admit that I fail at editing.**

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

The next week passed faster than I ever could have possibly fathomed and the next thing I knew it was the start of the weekend once again. A work-free, supposedly relaxing weekend because Big Al had gone out of town to visit his sister or something. I don't know, he wasn't very specific.

So that was why I was lounging around my loft on such a fine evening, alone and silently bemoaning the sad but true fact of my utter lack of a social life. I would like it duly noted that mechanical alien cars and large dogs with sleeping disorders don't at all count in any way shape or form as a part of a social life. Not even a little bit.

I though back on the past week with mixed feelings, knowing that those first few days had undoubtedly changed my life forever, for better or worse I couldn't exactly be sure though I _was _certain that I would never regret any of it, no matter what shock and horror I suffered through as a direct or indirect result.

Discovering that my car, my first car – that is my first car that had been legitimately purchased and not stolen or somehow obtained through nefarious or otherwise obtuse means – was an advanced robotic, shape-shifting being from another world had been quite the eye-opener for me, as it no doubt would be for anyone.

I mean, sure, at first I had taken it all remarkably well, considering the circumstances. So well, in fact, that Dodge had commented on it and had even gone so far as to grudgingly commend me for not absolutely losing my shit over it all. I had laughed at him and reminded him that I was no more than a foolish human with a strange infatuation for every kind of mechanical marvel.

Apparently said infatuation was strong enough for me to completely forget all reasonable thoughts about safety, scary, potentially dangerous alien robots and the will to live that supposedly lived within all human beings. Dodge had scolded me for being such a poor excuse for a human specimen and for setting him a terrible example of the finest points of our race. He didn't take it well when I threatened to key his door, new paint and all.

Like I said though, I had taken it all in remarkably well in the beginning, despite what sense and sensibility told me. Too well, apparently. Which meant there was either something seriously wrong with me – a point of address for another time – or the reality of the truths I was facing had yet to sink in to my mushy human brain.

It took another two days, till I had returned to the relative normalcy of working at the garage that my brain at last began to finally make the connections thereby leaving me totally freaking out, becoming utterly paranoid and completely irrational day in and day out. Okay, so that last one's not _that _unusual when it comes to me, but I was in a right mess at the time, okay?

I was horribly aware that I was one of the only – and possibly _the _only – human on our planet that knew about the existence of the Transformers hiding in plain sight. Instantly the fact that they could be anywhere and planning anything was painfully apparent in my mind. Every car, truck and plane was to me a Cybertronian hiding in broad daylight.

It didn't help that Dodge hadn't exactly been shy about letting me know that many Cybertronian's looked down upon lesser species such as humans and wouldn't think twice about harming us. My mind, already seeing each and every vehicle – and you see a few working as a mechanic next to a truck stop on a highway in the middle of the US of A. – as a possible Cybertronian threat refused to settle, leaving me increasingly flighty and exceedingly sleep deprived.

Early that morning Dodge grouchily informed me that he was done watching me be so utterly unreasonable about it all – I had been more or less avoiding him, rather hoping beyond hope that some miraculous solution to my crumbling mental state would present itself and cure of the insanity I seemed surrounded by. I was slightly concerned with what Dodge had planned and decided to retreat to my loft as soon as work permitted.

Dodge wasn't the only one that was getting seriously fed up with how I was handling things – or rather not handling them – as Al and Jones were completely _over _my jumpiness, though neither knew or understood the reasoning behind it. As a result I had inadvertently distanced myself from the two people I care most about and it was killing me for it to be that way. I think Al believed that I had been spooked by some figure from my past and so was taking it a lot easier on me than Jones who kept shooting me these betrayed looks that shattered my heart.

Anyway, mere moments after Jones and Al had left for the afternoon Dodge spun his tyres on the concrete floor, tyres squealing and acrid black smoke going everywhere.

"What are you doing!?" I yelled from the door of the left, waving my arms for him to stop.

"Get in," he demanded, his voice impossibly loud and the steely tone in it painfully apparent. I was so used to hearing him speak quietly, hearing him use his 'inside voice' that this was quite a shock. I don't think I'd heard him speak that way before. "We're going for a drive."

"Sure, whatever," I said hastily, knowing he had been planning this and I certainly wasn't afraid to admit that I was a little nervous. I wished I could go back to handling all of this as calmly and collected as I did when I first found out the truth about Dodge. "Just give me one minute."

Dodge made no response, his engine idling in what almost seemed to be an irritated rumble. I ran back inside the loft and threw on my boots and red truckers cap before beginning the hunt for my absent wallet. I knew it was around the place somewhere! I had shouted lunch earlier as recompense for being such an annoying ass as of late.

After a minute – and I have no doubt that it was not a millisecond over or under that – a loud, obnoxious horn rang out through the garage, courtesy of one pissed of Chevy Chevelle. And he refused to _shut the Hell up _until I'd made it to the car, hands clapped over my ears, wallet shoved into the waistband of my tatty jeans and an ugly scowl plastered all over my face.

"Jesus Dodge!" I snapped as I slid into the driver's side, the seat being slid right back to make it abundantly clear that I wasn't going to be driving us anywhere, much to my chagrin. "Have you no respect for a person's eardrums? I mean, seriously, what the actual Hell?" I wiggled a finger in my ear whilst boasting an odd expression from the peculiar sensation.

"You took too long," Dodge replied stiffly. I could hear him straining to keep the sourness out of his voice. I don't think he was angry at me so much, rather I believe he was angry at the general fact of why I had been acting in such an infuriating manner; because of his own kind. "You said one minute, not two or one and a half. One minute. You took too long," he ground out.

I snorted in a rather unladylike fashion – oh who are we kidding? Everything I do is classed as 'unladylike' – as he began to pull out of the garage and onto the highway. "I didn't mean _exactly _one minute, Dodge. It was a figure of speech more than anything."

"Then why not say _exactly _what you mean?" Dodged sniped back with his rhetorical question. I sighed and slumped back into the leather which sent vibrations from the car running up through my body in a comforting manner. There was no way I was going to get anywhere with him at the moment. I hadn't seen him this cranky before, admittedly I hadn't properly known him for that long as of yet.

I glanced over at Daisy as we drove, the large dog awkwardly curled up on the front floor with her big boofy head resting on the seat. She snored fitfully but thankfully didn't slobber all over the place. Dodge would have made me clean it up for sure, and just because I'd gotten more comfortable around this one particular dog didn't mean I was into dog slag and dog doodoo thank you very much.

"Why did you bring Daisy?" I asked after a moment, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence with some meaningless chatter. "She's supposed to stay and guard the garage. Especially when there's no one there."

"I like the animal's company," Dodge replied with an edge to his voice that I didn't fully understand. Guiltily, I could understand why Dodge found favour in Daisy's company. The dog doted on him for some unknown reason. He could call her name and she would instantly wake wherever she was and trot over towards him. She spent much of her time these days sprawled by his rear bumper where he occasionally spat some warm air out of the exhaust just to aggravate the creature.

To find out that Dodge so enjoyed her constant companionship wounded me a little despite being able to understand it. I decided that I would be a little more sociable towards the alien when I could. After all, he wasn't like a pet dog that you kept around and only paid attention to on your own terms; he was a sentient being with his own thoughts, emotions and desires. The car façade was just a little misleading at times and he was often quiet for such long periods, particularly when others were around, that it was quite a simple thing to just forget about him. Especially since he had spent so long being nothing more than 'my car.'

It was a good fifteen minute drive before we arrived to wherever it was that Dodge was taking us, though where exactly it was I couldn't be sure as I had been far too busy with trying to work out why Dodge had suddenly wanted to drag me out to… well, the middle of nowhere. I know he wanted to discuss why I had been acting the way I was or something along those lines, but did he really have to drag me out here? Oh well, maybe he just wanted a change of scenery. He'd been locked in the garage for a nearly a week or so. I'd want out too.

"It's pretty," I said uselessly as I climbed out of the car and walked around to the front bumper. I heard him let Daisy out on the other side and she instantly put her nose to the ground and wandered off to some nearby bushes.

We were in a small car park on the top of a steep ridge though it looked like the place hadn't seen any maintenance for quite some time. I think it had once been a lookout by the way the tarmac went right up to the edge before being stopped by a low, sturdy metal fence. It looked directly west and the setting sun shone before us, illuminating the world in shades of orange and gold.

"Why'd you bring me up here Dodge?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest as a chilly wind cut into me, leaning back against his bumper. The metal was still warm from the running engine. I resolutely stared out over the scenery. We were quite high up out there and therefore were offered quite the view. Roads criss-crossed here and there like dark snakes, stands of shadowy trees, tiny, roving cars like little fireflies and glowing houses and towns further out like little clusters of golden light. For the first time in quite a few days I felt some semblance of peace throughout my entire self.

"Why are you afraid, Havek?" Dodge asked softly after several long moments. So long, in fact, that I had quite forgotten that I had asked him a question, jumping like a startled frog when he responded.

I frowned. 'Why' was a question that I had been asking myself a lot over the past few days. I stewed on my answer for a long while, idly tracing a finger down the distinct line in his snazzy new paint where the midnight blue collided with the crisp white of his racing stripes. A solemn sigh slipped through my lips unbidden.

"I don't really understand why I'm afraid," I admitted, needing to say _something. _Perhaps if I got started the rest would follow more easily, like squeezing old glue from a tube. "I'm so confused about what I'm feeling. My heart seems pretty content with what's going on whilst my head is being irrational and unreasonable about everything. It keeps telling me that there's this strange danger all around that I can't see coming, which I can't fight, that I can't – can't run away from." That was a big one for me as running had always been my answer to my problems when the going got tough. Now there was nowhere to run too.

"Havek," the way he said my name was soothing, cajoling, like he was trying to calm a terrified wild animal. I would almost have been affronted if I didn't find it so adorable. "I would never let them harm you, you hear? There is no reason for any of my kind to come after you except for me," here Dodge's voice became slightly strangled for a moment before he carefully ironed it out. "and because of that I will protect you, anyway I have to."

"I know you will," I confessed, and I did. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Dodge would do anything and everything to protect me if it came down to it. He just gave off that kind of impression. 'Stupidly loyal' must've been written into his coding or something.

"Then why are you still afraid? Is it me?" I almost wished it was. It was so much easier to be afraid of what was right in front of you. Easier than it was to be afraid of something that you didn't know where it was.

"Of course not!" I exclaimed, appalled that he would think such a thing. Is that truly what had been bothering him so? "I trust you Dodge; you wouldn't hurt me." Hell, it had only been a week but I did trust him, with my life. And for me to say that… well, it just doesn't happen.

"Then why?" he prodded, wanting – no, _needing – _to know the answer, if only for his own peace of mind.

"Oh, I don't know! God!" I released a loud, frustrate exhale skywards. "Maybe 'cause the rest of your people could be all around me day in and day out and I'd never know! It's a – a fear of the unknown, a human thing. It's why we're naturally scared of the dark. It's not the dark itself, rather it's what may be hidden in it. And it's _them _that I don't trust." I added a little huffily. I'd never been good at exposing or explaining my feelings to others, not even alien robots.

"You know I'm not blind to my own kind like you humans, right?" Dodge asked and I shot the windscreen a confused look. Dodge made a strange sort exhale, air being expelled all over the car body almost like he was exasperated by my obliviousness. I pursed my lips, not seeing the funny side. "I can detect any Cybertronian before they get too close, Havek. Most Autobots have the ability to smother their unique signature but you don't have to worry about them."

"Autobots?" I asked, still trying to appreciate what he had just told me. I would be a lot more comforted if he truly could sense them before they showed. Though it was something I would have liked to know before I became a sleep deprived insomniac.

"The good guys you might say. They fight for peace and morality and all that other jazz." Dodge told me in an offhand kind of way.

"And who are they fighting against?" I asked cautiously, not really wanting to know that answer but needing to all the same. There was a brief but pregnant pause before Dodge's easy voice once again echoed through the grill on the front of the Chevelle.

"The Decepticons," the very word itself and the guarded way Dodge said it sent a wanton shiver down my spine. "They're led by a nasty bastard called Lord Megatron. Decepticons are very into Cybertronian supremacy, universal domination and the like."

"So you were an Autobot? Defender of the weak, protector of the innocent or whatever the Hell you said they were all for." I surmised.

"Eh, no not – not exactly…"

I whirled around and took a step back so that I could look at Dodge in his entirety.

"What do you mean 'not exactly?'" I asked, knowing I should at least be a little nervous but Dodge's words about protecting me continued to ring in my ears and my own faith in him hardened my heart towards what may have been some very serious past transgressions.

"I used to be a Decepticon," he told me after another hesitation, his words forcibly laid-back. I imagined that if he were a human boy he would be downcast, scuffing his toe in the dirt and mumbling to the ground. The mental image that thought left me with almost wanted to make me laugh if the severity of his words hadn't hit me like a punch to the guts. Just as shocking was his apparent lack of shame about it all. If these Decepticons were as bad as he made out, then why was he so different?

"Okay… okay. You were a Decepticon. Universal domination – hating other races, species whatever," I took a deep breath that was supposed to be calming but did nothing more than make me want to scream at the sky. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated and difficult? "So you used to be one of _them. _What changed?"

"I got tired of fighting. Tired of killing and destroying for orders that made no sense to me. Now I'm on no one's side but my own," he actually sounded quite proud of that fact. "C'mon Havek, I need to get you home so you can have sustenance and rest."

I climbed into the driver's seat, smiling slightly as Dodge called Daisy and the large dog obligingly hopped inside. Watching the obstinate hound come at the beck and call of a robot where she utterly ignored humans was amusing, though slightly frustrating to say the least.

It was only later that evening when I was safe up in my cosy loft, Dodge down below, curled up on my bed with a bowl of ice cream and watching late night telly but not focusing on a single thing happening on the screen, that I allowed myself to think back over his words.

"What did they do to you, Dodge?" I asked the universe. "What drove you to hide out here of all places as a shitty wreck, hiding from your own people?"

I couldn't answer those questions and I wasn't cruel enough to straight out ask _him _why. But my heart did burn in sympathy for my newest friend.

He and I, we were both alone, both betrayed by our own. Perhaps we were fated to find one another. For what were we but two lonely souls joined by the emptiness of our hearts? Er, my heart and his… whatever.

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

**Author's note**

**Thanks for reading guys, I hope you enjoyed! I for one hated this chapter with a vengeance. Please leave a review.**

**Oh! Question time, and this is important so LISTEN UP. There will be a pairing in this story which was originally going to be Optimus / Havek just because I wanted to see her rough and tumble attitude versus… well, Optimus. BUT! And this is a big but, nothing has been set in stone and this story could go in any one of a thousand directions. So please tell me who you guys think Havek would be paired awesomely with. **

**ALSO, what do you guys think of Dodge being an ex-con? D'ya reckon that's gonna come around and bite him in the aft or what? Can't wait to hear what you guys think!**

**Until next time my friends. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Dodge - Chapter 5**

**Before we go any further I would like to thank graziella,m,araujoo, 99luftballonsx,o,x, Fox of the Last Temple, Guest Frieda, Jazzy the Jazz and Sideswipesgirl78 for the wonderful reviews I received. I would also like to publicly thank the wonderful person who sent me a lovely review sharing their opinion. I greatly appreciated it!**

**Freida: Well thank you for your wonderful review! I'm glad you like my writing, story line and dialogue! I appreciate such a flattering comment on what is only the fourth chapter of this story, and I hope that I do not disappoint!**

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

"Havek… Havek…"

Dodge's voice chirruped through the Bluetooth annoyingly. I had no idea what he was trying to tell me, but I was far too focused on what awaited me in a scant few days. Women are supposedly multi-taskers, but apparently I missed out on that particular skill set.

I absently twirled screwdriver in my hand before setting the head of it in the grooves that would allow me to loosen the screw and remove the clamp, therefore permitting to remove the hose.

"HAVEK!" Dodge's voice screamed in my ear and I jerked at the sudden volume in my ear drum, smashing my head on the car's undercarriage and biting my tongue sharply to stop myself from swearing and/or screaming.

"Havek?" Jones' voice called from several metres away. "You okay?"

"Fine," I bit out, rubbing my tender forehead and grumbling to myself, knowing that I had just smeared grease all over the skin there.

"What the freaking hell Dodge?" I snapped in the lowest tone of voice I could manage. The Bluetooth in my ear allowed him to communicate with me, but didn't make it easy to have a chat with my robotic alien friend. Fortunately I was prone to talking to myself regardless and both Jones and Al had given up questioning it when it happened, though I still got weird looks from time to time when I said something particularly obscene.

"Pay more attention girl," he snarled in my ear. "That's one of my energon lines."

I continued rubbing my aching skull as I frowned and waited for his words to penetrate my sluggish brain. Then the realisation hit me. Painfully. Urgh, I was gonna have a dent in my forehead before the day was out.

"Dodge…" I began, not really sure how I was supposed to apologise for nearly removing what was essentially one of his veins. I rubbed my forehead again, knowing it would probably bruise. Just what I needed. "I'm – I should have been paying more attention. I'm sorry."

"Just be more careful," He growled back at me, though I knew he was trying to restrain his anger for my sake. The guy really did have one foul temper when you riled him up, and while I know he would never intentionally hurt me… well he could still send shivers down my spine and my heart a-racing. Whenever that happened there was a small voice chanting in my mind '_Decepticon, Bad Guy, Decepticon, Bad Buy…' _even though I knew well enough that he had given that up and despised his old 'companions' well enough. From what I had gathered in our rather brief discussions on the topic his old 'friends' had tried to kill him because he never wanted to be a murderer. That was as much as I learned about his past.

I worked in silence for several minutes more, going over the entirety of his undercarriage and doing everything I knew how to maintain and improve all the stuff that was going on under there. He probably could have done it himself but Dodge had explained that it was rather like getting a massage or acupuncture or something. At least he thought that would be the human equivalent. Unfortunately quite a lot of the stuff underneath him was foreign to me, or rather, _alien. _

"How come I never saw any of this stuff when I was first fixing you?" I asked him quietly, listening to be sure that neither of my oblivious human friends weren't in the nearby vicinity. I idly ran my hand down another of his energon lines before tightening the screw in the clamp that held it in place. "You know, back before I knew about you?"

"I have the ability to shift and manipulate just about every part of my body however I may see fit," Dodge reminded me with no small amount of smugness. "It really wasn't that difficult, even half-addled as I was."

"Half-addled?" I asked. He hadn't spoken much about his time spent as a stationary, worthless wreck, only to say that he had been carted from a car yard in some big city.

"Drained, I suppose you might say," he supplied. "I hadn't had energon or any kind of fuel for a considerable period of time. It was difficult to keep even my processors online."

"That must've sucked," I said with a shudder, remembering a few of times where I had been so hungry for such a period that I had all but collapsed, unable to keep my eyes open, my body moving or my mind ticking over. Sometimes I think it's a wonder that I've lived for so long.

"It was not enjoyable," Dodge replied in the static manner he adopted when he wasn't a hundred and ten percent sure how to reply with an appropriate human response – despite his 'appropriate' responses sometimes being utterly inappropriate!

I slid out from underneath his chassis slowly, not able to pretend that I actually had anything to do under there for any longer. Apparently it wasn't quite normal for one to lay under their car for hours at a time talking to oneself, or so Jones had informed me one day when I'd been having a rather in depth conversation with Dodge about fuel processes and the like. There was also the time I went to sleep under there whilst Dodge droned on and on about tyres. That was the day Al had dragged me out by my ankles before he left for home, shooting me queer looks over his shoulder as he did.

"Hey Dodge," I climbed into the passengers side and sprawled on the seat, allowing the door to swing shut onto my foot to give us a little privacy from eager ears. I pretended to fiddle with my new mobile - I had to get one to go with my Bluetooth thingo apparently – to avoid suspicion. "I gotta go into the city in a few days; you up for it?"

Dodge snorted, or at least it sounded like a snort. "Of course I am. It will be a relief to get out of this dreary space."

"Awesome," I grinned, my excitement getting the better of me. This trip could change everything for me.

"I don't think it's the sight-seeing that's got you so excited," Dodge deduced and once again I silently marvelled at his grasp of the human lingo. Although, he'd been on earth since the early 1950's so he'd had plenty of time to practice, way more time than I had even.

"Its not," I replied. I tried to hold it in but the sheer giddiness bubbled over the edge. "Oh Dodge! I'm going to see my brother!"

"And you've not seen him for a considerable period of time, I take it?"

"Not since I was thirteen and he was fifteen," I sighed and slumped back into the chair, my euphoria leaving me in what was essential a hazy kind of bliss. "The trouble we used to get into… ha! You wouldn't believe some of the things we used to do!"

"I don't doubt it," Dodge replied dryly and I snorted but otherwise ignored his comment.

"I wonder how he's changed? He was so gangly when I – when we parted. I bet he's so different now…" I sighed again by this time it was a lot less cheerful and a lot more of me mourning what I lost.

"A decade is a considerable period of time in a human life," Dodge said. "I imagine _you_ have changed a great deal in that time."

"More than you would ever believe," I smiled ruefully. "I was like my brother; all skin and bone, spindly as a scarecrow haha. But unlike him I was quiet, timid like a little mouse."

"You?" I could hear the disbelief clearly tainting his tone. "Now that I _don't _believe."

"It's the truth," I argued back playfully. "After my mum's death I became so reserved from the world that I was practically a recluse, living in my own little universe. That was how I got into cars!" I stated proudly.

"Oh?"

"Oh indeed," I grinned again, ducking my head as I saw Jones glance curiously in our direction. "I was… six or seven I think and my uncle bought me one of these robotic dinosaur things that you put together and stuff. I put it together, had it a week, got bored, pulled it apart and turned it into a car. My uncle thought it was hilarious and entered me in some junior robotics course. Everything kinda just snowballed from there." I admitted the last part with a self-conscious scratch of my head.

"You have an interesting past," Dodge commented, forcing me to snort ungraciously.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say," I sighed quietly and my mood slipped a little. "We were so happy when I was little. Then my mum died and our family gradually just fell apart. My dad became obsessed in his work and my brother didn't know what to do with a rambunctious little sister."

Dodge was silent and I could tell that he had no idea what to say in response. I suspected that he didn't have any point of compare. Well, he _was _a robot; did they even have families? I glanced at the glowing radio and sighed again, before continuing my little story telling session. He had a right to know; he was my friend, and if he was going with me to see my brother he had to know some details.

"By the time I was thirteen, life at home was hell. I threw myself into mechanics and school, fixing cars and motorbikes when I had a spare chance to earn a little cash so that my brother and I could afford to eat. My dad was really into drugs by this point and everything was just… crumbling from the inside," My stomach tightened at the mere though of it all and I forced back the memories that welled in my minds eye. "I ran away from home and got taken in by my uncle. He made sure I finished school but … uh, he passed away two weeks before I graduated…."

I took a heavy breath and glanced around the garage again, noticing that Jones and Al had vanished into a far corner and were huddled over something I couldn't see. That was good; I'd hate for one of them to see that welling tears in my eyes. I did have something of a reputation to protect. That is, what little of my sketchy reputation that I'd been able to salvage after my paranoia episode.

"This was back in your homeland?" Dodge asked me and I nodded, a slight smile crossing my features as I remembered the country that I had grown up knowing and loving.

"Australia, yeah."

"Why did you leave?" I scratched the back of my head and smiled ruefully.

"I uh, accidentally got in with a bad crowd after that. I was cleared of charges but my dad was absolutely wild when he had to bail me out of jail. He went absolutely bat-shit and my brother just looked disappointed. Not that he's got any right to judge anymore." I felt a scowl slide across my face as I thought of it. Of _him. _"It seems really cowardly to have left in the wake of all that, but I just felt like there was nothing there for my, like I needed a fresh start. D'ya know what I mean?"

"I – yes, I understand it," was Dodge's reply and I closed my eyes, slumping back in the seat. Of course he knew. There was a chance that he could comprehend that better than any human. It was just another one of those thousand and one things that we had in common despite all of the blatantly obvious differences between us.

"Havek!" Jones voice called loudly and I glanced up with wide eyes, seeing him striding towards us. Al was watching from the same corner they had been huddled in several minutes earlier.

"Yeah, what?" I called pushing Dodge's door back open and sliding my phone back into the glove compartment.

"Get out of there and come talk," I stood from the car and frowned at Jones.

"Talk about what?" I asked in confusion. He shrugged, glanced at Al and then turned back to me, grinning broadly with that smile that I knew meant infinite trouble.

"Stuff," was his nonchalant response and then he was right in front of me. He stooped and grabbed me before I could move an inch, pressed against Dodge's now closed door. Jones picked me up, slinging me over his shoulders like I weighed nothing, though with my slight frame… Jones huffed. "Do you ever actually eat anything? You're such a scrawny little cow."

"Hey!" I yelped, both in response to his horrid comment and the fact that he was carrying me across the garage over his shoulder, holding me in place with nothing more than the arm wrapped around my thighs. I had a horrible vision where his grip slipped and I flopped face first into the concrete, snapping my neck and mushing my face. "Jones! You slippery prick! Put me down ya cunt!"

"You have disgusting language, you know that right?" Jones said with a snort before he added "Sordid bitch."

"What the fuck does 'sordid' mean?" I yelled before yelping as he bounced me on his shoulder to adjust his grip. "Don't you _dare _drop me!"

"Too late," he replied with what sounded suspiciously like a smirk in his voice. Before I could work out what he meant he tossed me off my shoulder and I sprawled on the ground, wincing from the various points where contact with the solid concrete was going to leave some spectacular bruises.

"Sordid means disgusting, distasteful or repugnant," he supplied smugly as he dusted his hands off against one another. I scowled at him, rolling so that my feet were tucked underneath me. Then I pushed off, intending to take the smirking bastard out with a spear tackle, only for thick arms to wrap themselves around my waist as I launched at Jones.

"Al!" I shrieked, wriggling furiously. "Let me go! I'm gonna kick his arse!"

"Nope," Big Al replied and effortlessly carried me, my struggling feet hanging a good foot or so off the ground.

"_You're in this together!" _I roared in accusation, though secretly I was enjoying the playful interaction. A good bit of fun never hurt any one. No, the blooming bruises on my body demand that I take that back.

"'course we are," Jones informed me cheerfully, opening the door so that Al could carry me outside. I continued wriggling, more for the sake of it that any effort at actually getting free. I was being carried towards Al's ute – what was it the American's always seem to call them? A truck? – Jones wrenched open the door and I was all but thrown on the back seat, the door slamming shut behind me as I hurriedly tucked my feet inside.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, leaning over into the front of the cab with an admittedly excited smile on my face as Jones jumped into the passenger seat and Al slid in behind the wheel. The men exchanged a look and gave one another private grins, grins that didn't bode well for me.

"Aww now that's a secret l'il lady," Jones drawled as he cranked up the stereo and smiled winningly at me.

"Seriously?" I shot them both doubtful looks seeing Al glance at me in the rear view mirror. "Not even a clue?"

"You've got no clue," Jones retorted with double meaning lacing his words. I growled and threw myself back in the seat, pulling the belt across my chest.

"This had better be good."

~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~

Jones and Al thought they were funny.

They really weren't.

I couldn't help the blush that rose to my cheeks as I was reluctantly led into the only nice restaurant the nearby little town possessed. People of all stripes were out in their finery, getting themselves some fine dining and a hearty tab. Me? I was too broke to be there and dressed in a ragged jumpsuit rolled to the waist with a horrible grey tank top showing. My head had two reddish purple marks where I had smashed my skull on Dodge's underside and a couple large smears of grease were I had tried my utmost to rub away the pain.

"What are we doing here?" I hissed as we were shown to our seats which oh-so-conveniently happened to be in the middle of the restaurant floor.

"Having dinner," was Al's nonchalant response. I glanced all about me anxiously, sure I was about to be kicked out for my scruffy appearance alone. Al and Jones had made an effort to clean themselves up at some point, a fact I hadn't noticed until we were actually ordering food, all of which promised to be more about presentation then sustenance. Jones eyed his menu with all the decorum and mandated snottiness of an upper class a-hole. I have no idea how he managed it so well, but even Al was fitting in better than I was.

"Chicken parmigiana," I told the waiter and was given a whole list of optional sides, sauces and the like, none of which tempted me in the least. I just wanted something to eat without all the fancy nonsense. I found it amusing though that Al had gone straight to ordering mains and drinks for us.

"So… why are we having dinner in this expensive-arsed place?" I asked, leaning over the table slightly so that our neighbours, who were a little closer than I would have liked, couldn't overhear our conversation.

Al ran a hand across the edge of his beard in what I thought to be a rather nervous gesture. "Oh, you know, I just wanted to thank you guys for being – well, _you_ know."

I exchanged a puzzled look with Jones. Aside from the 'kidnap Havek' plan Jones didn't really seem to have any idea as to what was going on. "We know what?"

Big Al heaved an enormous sigh and focused his gaze on the empty plate that restaurants always seemed to leave on the table to make you feel hungrier and hungrier. Jones and I shared another glance as the silence stretched on, almost becoming painful to experience. Then Al rubbed one of his worn knuckles on the edge of the table and closed his eyes.

"I'm leavin'."

**~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~ ( ) ~**

**Author's Note**

**Hey guys!**

**I just wish to say that I **_**do**_** just want to let Havek and Dodge's stories unravel as they will and don't intend on forcing any issues. I just wanted to see if you guys had any opinions! And it was so great to hear from you all! All of your suggestions have got plot points, random tangents and potential plot holes running through my brain. That's why I so adore hearing everything you have to say about my writing, my story and whatever else. Seriously, the good and the bad, I don't mind.**

**Also, I hope you don't all mind me playing around with some ideas regarding the Transformers. I mentioned at the start of the story that I really don't know all that much and am just kinda… winging it based on what I do know and my own creativity. Is it okay thus far?**

**Oh, and last thing (promise!) is anyone offended by the vulgar language the characters use? I know this story is rated T, and that such language for me is commonplace, But I could attempt to tone it down a little if anyone is offended… let me know. **

**Many thanks**

**AranitaGambade**


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